The Game Was Rigged From The Start
by Necessary Censorship
Summary: The story of a man pulled all the way from South Dakota to the Mojave. Pulled by what though? Destiny, Fate? Bad luck? He has no idea and you'll probably have to judge for yourself. [Prepare for some A/U, Romance and... well nobody can really prepare you for New Vegas can they?]


People need to eat. It's strange how much power a simple fact like that has. Food was scarce, especially in post-nuclear fallout America. People learned not to waste, and make full use out of whatever they had. This meant hunting, scavenging, even dumpster diving for some. And if you had skills or the right gear, plenty of other unfortunate people were providing with work. Work meant caps, caps meant food, repairs, weapons to keep yourself alive and make sure you could keep doing the work that was earning you those caps in the first place.

Iroquois Louis Patton, what a name that was. His mother pieced it together for bits of pre-war books that had legible pages. Iroquois was apparently a coalition of people that worked together, like a big tribe. That's what she had always told him. Louis was some sort of explorer and Patton, well his Father had picked that one. An ancient and powerful chief or general he said. Luckily for his mother an old Ghoul had been around to tell her how to correctly pronounce his first name. It had still been one hell of a mouthful though, so he usually settled for Riq. Because it sounded like 'Rick' and everyone knew how to say that.

Riq's childhood was a bit of a strange one. You think the Brotherhood, the Enclave, the NCR and the Legion are the only big players in America? Think again. NCR got California, Legion got Arizona and the Brotherhood has D.C and some other places but the mid-west is different. See Caesar conquered a lot of tribes no doubt, but there were too many for him up north. The tactical decision was for the Legion to focus on the NCR and the damn rather than head through Nebraska. Too much danger and too much unknown Territory for Caesar. It was actually former Legate Joshua Graham that suggested it. Who knows if it was the right move or not. What we do know is those tribes up North? they were nothing to fuck with without a plan.

First you had the Sioux. Jesus Christ these guys have a lineage. According to what some of the older members (Ghouls, since the Sioux never treated them less than human) will tell you the Sioux predate the nuclear bombs. In fact they'll tell you that they predate industrial America too, though that is a bit sketchy if you ask me.

With just enough scavenged tech to make even seasoned raiders think twice, and enough numbers to grind against the Legion if they had to it wasn't a stretch to guess they had a lot of control. Nebraska was never worth much but they kept a foothold in the north regardless. It was when you headed into the forested hills of South Dakota that you got to the heart of their territory. Now don't get me wrong, the Sioux are warriors through and through. Wearing too much read? You're gonna get shot. They're smart enough to spot Legion colors. And they were highly suspicious of a lot of people. But once the Caravans started showing up from Indianapolis they calmed down a little. Mostly because more trade meant more tech, guns, medication... you get the idea.

Charging Eagle was their leader for a long time. He kind of represented the Sioux in their prime honestly. He treated the Caravans fair and with friendship, and was almost always willing to try words before bullets. That did come to an end though, when the Blacktops showed up.  
Remember when we thought engineering died with the Old World? yeah, not quite. I mean there are still rumors of a giant robot in D.C to consider. Specifically these assholes came riding up from the 66 on motorcycles. Scrapped together, sometimes barely working shitty motorcycles, but motorcycles all the same. They called themselves the Blacktops, and they were a mean bunch of fuckers. Somewhere between the Fiends and the Great Khans, the Blacktops controlled pretty much all trade over the 66. They took tolls from any Caravan brave enough to walk the road, and sold Chems all over the Midwest. There was a rumor going around that they were going to join up with the Legion, but something happened in Missouri that changed their minds.

There was a big fight when the Blacktops rode up and decided to expand their territory. Nobody really won, but Charging Eagle died. He had a successor but it shook up the tribe, and eventually split it into three. The Sioux still had the most in number and they stayed in the Hills, but the Diamondbacks went into Minnesota and the Shai-Anne went West into Montana. The Blacktops didn't really leave either, and went as far as establishing an outpost in what used to be the Sioux's little holding in Nebraska. Most of them went back to the 66 but they kept a standing force in Valentine out of defiance if nothing else.

After the tribes you had the Dakota Union. Not quite like the NCR, the Union was stationed in North Dakota and didn't exactly enforce strict law. They acted as jacks of all trades really, couriers, rangers and when the time called for it soldiers. They investigated murders, theft when they could, dealt with raiders and other hostile factions but mostly left the people of the state to their own devices. In Vault 39 they were pretty heavily defended and armed for that matter. They didn't start coming south until Devil's Hole Caravan's did, and a lot of them were hired on as guards. That was the first time they interacted with the Sioux, and if it wasn't for this Riq's parents would have never met.

His father, a Dakota Union sharpshooter. His mother? A tribal warrior. There is an in-depth story on how they really got together but we'll save that for another time yeah? Raleigh was his name and hers was Slices-Vein, but she settled for 'Betty'. Two people with no last name journeyed the wastes together and when they had a baby boy, they gave him a name proper. Of course there is no shortage of stories without happy endings in the wastes are there?

One day Riq came home to his family's little Wyoming shack to find his parents dismembered and their limbless torsos impaled on spikes in the living room. Didn't do very much good for his psyche, but given the circumstances I'd say he made out better than expected.

Thirteen year old Riq was on his own now. First thing he did was go to the Sioux. They taught him everything his father had planned on, but didn't get the chance to. Eventually he got restless, and when he was sixteen he set out into the world. He did odd jobs for the Blacktops to make sure they wouldn't fuck with him for crossing the 66, then made his way into Indianapolis. He hooked up with a trade caravan there, tiny operation called Deathclaw Caravans. They were nowhere near as threatening as they sounded, but they got free pass on the 66 since the caravan owner was the little brother of the Blacktops' leader, Dahlia.

He stuck with that caravan long enough to get a good amount of experience under his belt, especially someone for his age. Of course it was an on and off relationship, and he honestly would not have kept coming back if they didn't pay him so well. It was that same Caravan that brought him to New Vegas. Riq himself now nearly thirty eight years old. It didn't go down how the owner expected though. He learned really fast not to let Iroquois Patton figure out that you have so many 'bitches on your dick' because they're outfitted with bomb collars and you bought them from Caesar's Legion.

After taking care of business he snuck away, leaving Deathclaw Caravans camped just barely into Idaho and marched into the Mojave on his lonesome. And of course, people need to eat, so he grabbed the first job he heard of for some good caps. He was pretty confident the Mojave didn't have anything in store for him he hadn't had to deal with already.

He didn't count on the illusive 'asshole in a checkered suit' trope though.


End file.
